


Perihelion

by thisnameisnowtaken



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (Sometime in the near future), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Porn With Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension (eventually), Slow Burn, This is a "she has a secret mission to seduce him but oh no she falls in love" sort of story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:53:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisnameisnowtaken/pseuds/thisnameisnowtaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perihelion: the point in the orbit of a planet, asteroid, or comet at which it is closest to the sun.</p><p>All that Ayla Peri has ever known is battle. Ever since she was snatched up by troops of the First Order, she has been trained to fight and kill. Fifteen years later, she's a member of Commandant Hux's exclusive cadets and well in line to become Commandant herself. Of course, nothing is ever set in stone, and the Force always has a hidden plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Mask of Neutrality

A storm was on its way. Ayla could already see it blowing up below, in the ocean of snow and ice covering the uneven landscape. Above and below, all existed in shades of white and grey. Still, even though the jagged mountains still looked like nothing but hills to her, they’d have landed long before the storm would arrive. 

True enough, the wind had not gotten much stronger when the craft began its descent. A cloud of snow-dust was blown away below them, revealing a metal surface. She began to make out the men running around, holding red flares in their hands as they guided the pilot. She could count at least twenty, but she knew there were more; there were camps of them, hidden in the surrounding hills, armed to the teeth in case of an attack.And the hills — there was no guarantee they were hills at all. At least half of them were built around blasters that could take down a craft twice this size with just one shot.

“Welcome to Starkiller Base, cadet,” Commandant Hux said, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

She sucked in a breath. “So this is it?” Her voice was pulled to the breaking point with excitement. 

The frown was audible in his voice. “You’re not disappointed, are you?”

She turned to him, smiling ever-so-slightly; it was nothing but a brief, barely noticeable tug of the corners of her mouth, but, here, it was practically a grin. “I am exhilirated.”

He returned her smile. “Good.”

The landing was rough. The metal was covered in a thin layer of ice and the craft almost slipped. Ayla thanked the Force that she had not become a pilot. There was too much responsibility, there. 

“You have responsibility everywhere,” Hux had told her, once, “directly or indirectly.”

But she was not meant for it, thankfully — she had the eyesight for it, but not the mind. Hers was too focused. When she eyed a target, she narrowed in on it and forgot all else. As a pilot, that could be a fatal mistake which cost the life of dozens of her fellow soldiers; as a sniper, it was an important skill that she honed for hours. Cold, single-minded focus of the kind that took a certain sort of cruelty. Contrary to her fellow soldiers, she knew her exact death count — seventy-three lines were etched into the inside of her helmet — and contrary to them, she had meticulously planned each and every one of her kills, had watched each and every one of her victims die from afar, had not the heat nor the confusion of battle to blame it on. 

“I should tell you that the Supreme Leader has taken note of your recent success,” Hux continued. 

She felt her heart jump. She knew, of course, that this had been in store for her; she had gone first to the Outer Rim to help take down a small Resistance base, then to Coruscant to keep one of the Senators at gunpoint. In the end, the assassination was called off when she took the bribe of the Order, but there was no doubt of Ayla’s competence. 

“I hope he’ll take my advice to heart, to let me train you to become Commandant.”

She wanted to ask him if he was sure, if her being a good sniper and assassin really meant that she would be a good leader, too, but he did not appreciate insecurity. _Someone whos appears insecure about their own abilities cannot be a good leader_. And that was what she wanted to be, after all, with a burning desire. 

“So it’s me and Odris?” 

Saleem Odris was another cadet, terribly skilled with a gun in his hand. Even if there was a way of tracking his kills, she doubted they could be counted. She glanced at him, seated in the other end of the craft. He was meant to become a Trooper, but his skill exceeded that. Even now, resting, his eyes were alert, shining with the sort of dark, restrained madness that never wavered too far from Hux’s cadets. The hairs on her arms rose; they were friends, as close as you got around here, but in some moments she did not recognize him. 

Hux followed her gaze and frowned in thought. “That’s what’s expected.”

They left the craft and walked in two lines to the mouth of the base. Six cadets had been picked to go with Hux to help plan the next attack on the Resistance and obtain the map to find Luke Skywalker. 

“Welcome, Commandant Hux,” a soldier by the entrance said. 

The Commandant glanced at him coldly. What little kindness he had in him was reserved for his cadets, his chosen ones, and Ayla’s heart soared at the thought of being amongst them. The soldier turned around and started to lead them through the halls. 

Saleem leaned towards Ayla. “I’ve heard Commander Ren is here,” he whispered, barely audible over their boots resounding in the metal walls. 

Ayla’s eyes widened. “Here? In this base?”

He nodded. “Might be that he left, but last I heard…”

In that moment, a door opened up and they enter a platform elevated far above an enormous white room where hundreds of Troopers have been lined up. Ayla wants to say something, anything to express her surprise. In her fatigue from the long journey, she almost slips up, but she manages to catch herself and reset her face in its usual expression; it’s the expression she has been taught, ever since she first began to excel in her beginner’s classes just after her recruitment — a mask of neutrality, but with a hint of arrogance, disdain. 

It wasn’t that anyone had _taught_ her, of course. It was just the way it was, something you picked up on by a hundred tiny hints. When she arrived, that fateful day fifteen years ago, her superiors had hit her; so, now that she was a superior, she hit those below her. It was just the way it was. 

“So, this is what we’ve got,” Hux mused, looking over the Troopers. Ayla could not figure out if he was pleased or not.

The soldier who had led their way nodded. He did not appear shaken by the Commandant’s coldness. “Lord Ren will be here shortly.”

Once more, Saleem leaned over. “What did I say?”

Hux’s eyes zeroed in on Saleem at once. “Quiet, cadet.”

Saleem did not speak again, but he still wore a smirk. 

Hux glared at all six of his soldiers. “Line up. I want you to keep your heads straight, eyes down. Show a bit of respect.”

Ayla immediately did as told, turned her body towards the edge of the platform and fixing her eyes on one of the Troopers. Her head felt woozy and she thought that maybe keeping her gaze straight would help keep her body upright. 

Before Hux could bark out another order, the doors slid open. It was immediately tangible that a Knight of Ren had just entered; the air felt electric, and the red heat of his Force hit her as if she were standing next to the sun. She didn’t know how she could recognize the feeling when she had never been close to one of the Knights before, had never even been on the same planet as one. Yet, it did. The feeling was as familiar to her as the feeling of water. 

And so, she could not stop her head from turning. It did so of its own accord, as if the Force had taken hold of it and moved it for her. In the next second, her gaze connected with the darkness where Kylo Ren’s eyes should’ve been, had they not been covered by a mask. he was no longer just woozy from tiredness; it felt as though her body had dissipated around her and she was floating in thin air. The world seemed to be twirling around her. 

In the next second, for it could not have taken Ren more than a second to pass her, her gaze slipped to the cold eyes of Hux, to his clenched jaw, and her body clamped around her soul again, and her feet touched the ground again. She snapped her neck and looked straight ahead again. Even when she felt the heat of Ren’s gaze return to her cheek, she refused to have her focus stolen from her. With a deep breath, she refastened her mask and refocused her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uhm yeah i haven't written fanfiction in ages but my mind was blank for original ideas and now i'm doing this for practice. it's completely unedited (i changed a semicolon in the first line to a full stop and that's literally it) because i'm a lazy bastard. but i'm excited to hear your thoughts!!


	2. Simmer

Ayla’s lungs heaved and burned with exhaustion; it felt as though the heat of combat has melted her muscles. Yet, somehow, she managed to twist her leg up. It connected with Saleem’s neck and managed to knock him over. She followed the curve of her blow and ended on her knees, straddling his chest and keeping his arms locked to his sides. Without a second thought, she closed her hands around his throat and pressed. 

This was the hard pard, the _all or nothing_ part. Saleem twisted and turned like a fish on land, trying to throw her off balance. Yet she refused to loosen her grip, a grip that grew more and more painful for each seconds. Her fingers quivered, begging her to relax her hand, but she clenched her teeth and tried to calm her racing heart. 

This part, she realized, was as much about controlling her own body as it was about controlling his.

Saleem’s eyes began to roll around frantically. His face had turned red and spittle flew from his mouth onto her face in a light drizzle. She was not better, of course; she, too, had turned a pinkish shade and a line of spit hung from her drawn-back lips.

Finally, Hux’s whistle blew. Ayla forced herself to not roll over onto her back, like her body begged her to, but to stand up in measured movements. Every muscle in her body quivered out of her control, but the few things she could still control, she forced into stillness as her eyes met with Hux’s. 

“Good fight, cadet.”

It was the last of ten, out of which this was the second she had won. Still, considering that she was up against Saleem, it was enough to feel proud about. Hux had been pitting them against each other ever since their arrival on Starkiller a week earlier, both in the training room and at the tactical table. 

She drew in a deep breath and nodded at him, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. It was drenched in sweat. When Hux turned away to oversee the other fights going on, she helped Saleem to his feet. 

“It really was a good fight,” he croaked, rubbing his neck. “That kick might be a bit too artistic for real combat, though.”

She knew he was right, but could not keep from nudging his shoulder. “Worked well enough on you.” 

He smirked, about to retaliate, when he was distracted. “Hey, look up there.”

Ayla turned and followed his gaze to a window, about ten meters up the wall. There, she found the dark figure of Kylo Ren looming. 

“What d’you think he’s doing here?” Saleem asked. 

There was no way she could’ve known — for all the she could see, with her eyes, the Knight could be looking anywhere — but somehow she felt that he was looking back at her. It was hard to pull herself together and look back at Saleem. 

“Hard to say,” she said with a shrug. “Perhaps he wants to see what the Commandant’s Cadets are capable of.”

Saleem snorted. “In that case you gave him quite a show.”

Hux returned from guiding one of the other cadets. “Odris! Peri! Go wash up and eat. You’ll be called to council tonight.”

Ayla quickly washed off, going through the motions of washing her hair the way she went through checking her gun, mentally crossing off a list. It allowed her a couple of minutes of quiet underneath the running water, to massage her shoulders and stretch her muscles and let her eyes fall shut. 

“Don’t fall asleep in there,” Saleem said as he passed her cubicle. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, too tired to come up with a better response, and turned off the shower with a sigh.

She dressed in her deep blue uniform meant for base use, then tied her hair back in a tight bun right at the nape of her neck. Her hair was a frizzy mess of blonde curls, and taming it was a daily battle. 

“You ready?” Saleem asked from the benches behind her. 

She rubbed her eyes one last time, sending a thought to the bed awaiting her in just a couple of hours, before nodding and following him out of the dressing room. 

They walked to the conference room together, turned silent by the long day of training. Inside, they were met by low voices and the hum of machines. A blue holomap quivered in the air above the table in the middle of the room. 

“Come, let’s sit,” Saleem suggested, guiding her to a chair close to the end of the table. 

Ayla enjoyed the feeling of letting her legs relaxed and leaned back, resting her back lightly against the chair. Usually, the cadets, due to their heavy training load, were allowed a standard eight hours of sleep, mainly to prevent illness and injury. Since they’d arrived at Starkiller, however, their program had been so packed that they didn’t even get six hours. 

“I’m so tired,” Ayla whispered.

Saleem nodded. “Do you think you’re getting sick? I mean, you fought well, but you had a harder time than usual.”

She scoffed when he added the last two words. “I’m fine, thanks.”

He smiled at her. “We just need to learn how to fit in these meeting. We’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”

There were times when he appeared cold, cruel even; when the ghosts of war played in the shadows of his face and his words turned venomous. This was not one of those. 

“Thanks,” she said, this time with meaning. 

The doors slid open and Commandant Hux entered. The meeting commenced as usual; some Resistance messages had been intercepted. Ayla sighed, knowing that she’d have to decode at least some of them. Very few people could be trusted with things like this. This was all in relation to acquiring the map to Luke Skywalker.

The rest of the meeting had nothing to do with Skywalker or even the Resistance. The First Order were trying to expand into another system, somewhere in the Middle Rim. After a short campaign on one of the smaller planets, which had been succesful but cost more than expected, they were moving onto plans of defeating the more central planets.

They were in the middle of a discussion of which planet to hit next when a soldier entered. “I have a message for Commandant Hux,” he declared, before handing Hux an envelope and leaving the room. 

Hux, upon glancing at the envelope, left the table and opened the letter standing. He did it so smoothly that most people would not notice that he did it all to keep the contents of the letter secret. 

After skimming it, his eyes rose to meet Ayla’s. He held her gaze for a few seconds before looking away, clearing his throat and putting away the letter. Ayla watched in startled silence as he sat and the meeting recommenced. She had no idea what his look could mean, but there was a meaning. Of this, she was sure. 

She felt Saleem’s uneasiness, too; he glanced at her several times, but after a few minutes he relaxed. Ayla, on the contrary, could not relax. Her mind kept drifting to the way Hux had looked at her. He had frowned, so very slightly, with confusion mixed with something like disapproval— and yet nothing like it at all. She did not know how to explain it, but she did not like it.

When the meeting came to an end, she half expected him to pull her aside, to say something to her, but he did not even look at her. When she came to an halt before him, he kept his eyes on the paperwork in his hands as he said, “You’re free to go to the barracks for now, cadet.”

Her heart fluttered with embarrassment. As much as she had looked forward to sleep just a couple of hours earlier, she now dreaded it. 

When she entered the hallway, it was all but empty and Saleem was nowhere to be seen. She felt slightly lightheaded as she began walking, something she quickly realized wasn’t because of the embarrassment. The wooziness only got worse with each step she took away from the room until black dots began to appear at edge of her vision. 

_Maybe Saleem was right_ , she wondered, forcing her back to stay straight and her face to stay neutral. _Maybe I am getting sick. Or maybe I just didn’t eat enough._

Soon, however, thinking became impossible — and so did walking straight. With a quick glance behind her to check if she was alone, she rested her hand against the wall and closed her eyes. She drew in a deep breath, feeling her heart race out of control. 

And then, a simmer in the air. It vibrated its way to the core, warmed her insides. She let out a sigh and rested her forehead against the cool wall. 

“Are you alright?”

She jumped at the mechanical sound of his voice— _his_ voice. She instantly tensed and drew herself up into a straight stance. Her vision had yet to return, but she ignored that for the moment. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

She felt him hesitate, but then the simmer lessened. “Good evening, cadet.”

“You too, sir,” she bit out.

It was only thanks to her pride and her fear for this man that she managed to take that first step, then the next one. She walked in blindness for a couple of seconds before her sight returned, one dot of light at a time. She turned the first corner she reached, almost running into Commandant Hux.

“Cadet, what are you doing here?”

She controlled the urge to groan. _Damn it_. “I’m on my way to the barracks.”

“You’re going the wrong way, then,” he pointed out. 

She blinked, looked around. “Really?”

Her exhaustion must’ve played out in her favor, for once, because he seemed to believe her confusion. “You need to go to the left down there,” he explained, pointing to a hallway a little back. “But it is all for the best. I was on my way to talk to you.”

She felt her heart sink. The urge to find out what had been in the letter had somewhat diminished. “Yes, sir?”

“It’s…” For the first time ever, Ayla saw Hux display discomfort. He glanced around him and moved closer to her before continuing. “It’s the Supreme Leader. He wishes to speak to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter tonight, but they're so short and nothing really happened in the first one. I feel like this chapter should've probably been merged with Chapter 1 but oh who cares. Plot twists make for good chapter endings (and short chapters make for less transitions. Did I mention? I am lazy). Anyways, tell me what you think!


	3. The Heaviness of Legends

At first, Ayla had been relieved when Hux reassured her that, no, the General Leader did not wish to speak to her that night and she could go to sleep. When she reached her cot, however, she wished she could have gotten the conversation over with. It loomed over her, a dark, ominous shadow, all night as she twisted and turned. 

She did not feel rested when she awoke the next morning. If anything, she felt as though she had lived through a hundred fights against Saleem. Right now, she would gladly live through that if it meant she never had to hear about the Supreme Leader again.

Unfortunately, Hux stopped her on her way out of the door.

“You’re excused from practice today, cadet,” he told her sternly.

She frowned. “Sir?” Around her, the other five cadets glancing at her with interest. 

“You said you felt sick. We have to test you, to see what’s wrong and if it’s infectious.”

_Sick_ , she thought and nodded. “Of course.”

“Come with me,” he said, after a brief moment’s pause. “The rest of you,” he continued, turning to the other cadets. “Follow your ordinary schedules.”

Once they were alone in the barracks, he drew closer to her and closed the door. “Ayla, when you see the Supreme Leader—”

She sucked in a breath; it was the first time he had called her by her first name. Anxiousness tore at his voice and he cleared his throat before continuing. 

“You must treat him with the utmost respect,” he continued. She wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to do. “You cannot displease him, not even slightly, or it might have… dark consequences.”

“Well, I figured. Dark side of the Force, dark consequences,” she lilted, leaning her head from side to side as she spoke. 

“Don’t joke about this.”

The reprimand in his voice was softer than usual, yet it still hit her like a slap to the face and she found herself incapable to meet his eyes. Instead, she focused her gaze on his chest pocket. 

“Well, what do you expect me to do?” she said, her voice just barely above a whisper. 

He placed a hand on her shoulder, drawing her eyes back up to his. “I expect you to be focused, the way I know you can be. Cool-headed, intelligent.”

She nodded, slowly. “I can do that.” For a moment, she remained silent. Then, “What do you expect it to be about?”

“I know what’s it’s about,” he admitted, “and I don’t like it. It’s not your responsibility, it’s not up to you to fix mistakes that weren’t made by you.”

She sensed that he was not going to elaborate, so she nodded and said, “When am I going to see him?”

“Now,” Hux said. “Come.”

Perhaps it was the tiredness, or perhaps the fact that she hadn’t eaten for bordering on twelve hours, but most likely it was the prospect of meeting the Supreme Leader that made her stomach churn and turn. There couldn’t be much food left, but bile was rising to her throat and her head seemed to be floating in circles. 

“Are you alright?” Hux asked, not slowing down, not even looking down at her.

She nodded, once, but even that slight motion made her stomach flip. “Yes. Just hungry, I think.” 

“You can eat as soon as you get back,” he said. “I thought it more important to let you get some sleep.”

_Not that I got any_ , she thought to herself. But it was still the best choice; at least now she had nothing that could be thrown up if she got sick. 

Hux led her deeper into the base than she had ever gone before. The lights seemed to grow dimmer around her, as if the power source could not quite reach. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of walking, he stopped before a door. It looked like any other door in the hallway, but a quick reading of the lock revealed that the access was extremely limited — in fact, it was the highest security level she had seen. 

“Only a handful of people have ever been inside these doors,” Hux told her. “That’s including the people who built it.”

She couldn’t help but shiver. Those who built it most likely did not draw breath anymore. 

The hallway inside was black, and the lights were a dim orange. Ayla hesitated before following her Commandant inside. 

At the end of the hall, there was a black door. It was outlined by a red light, or it would not have been visible. This one had a security code even higher than the previous door. When she thought about it, she realized that there could not be anyone but Hux and Kylo Ren who had access beyond this point. 

The doors slid open with a metallic gasp. Inside, all she could see was more darkness. 

“He wants to see you alone,” Hux said, stepping aside from the doorway.

Her heart beat so loud she could hear it in her ears, and feel it through the pit of her stomach. Fear had latched onto her throat. “Alone?” Her voice was raspy.

He nodded. “I’ll be just out here.”

She blinked away tears. “Here?”

Hux wetted his lips, touched her shoulder. “He won’t hurt you. He knows your value. Just… stay focused. Stay clever.”

She drew in several deep breaths, but it did nothing to calm her trembling body. So, she gave up and walked in as she was; her muscle tense, her skin burning, her blood seemingly replaced by adrenaline. 

She never thought she’d feel fear like this again. It was not the fear of a trained warrior marching onto a battlefield; it was worse even than the fear of an adult facing certain death. She had tried that once, on a mission that almost went terribly wrong. But it didn’t compare to this. _This_ sort of fear she had only felt once, in the mud, under heavy rain, fifteen years earlier. _This_ was the fear of a lonely child in the face of an enemy that was larger than life.

The size of the figure that welcomed her startled her so much that she froze on the spot. Had the doors not closed, she would have turned and fled. Then, she saw him flicker, and a small piece of her terror dismantled. It wasn’t much, though; the Force could reach across vast distances, and who was to say he wasn’t in the room with her, hidden in the hundred shadows playing along the walls? 

The next thing she noticed was his face; its long, sharp lines, the flatness of it. He looked like nothing she had ever seen before.

“Cadet Ayla Peri.”

There seemed to pass several seconds between each word that rolled out of his throat. 

“Supreme Leader.”

She was shocked at the clarity of her voice, of how it kept from trembling. 

“Come on in,” he invited, a dragging, silky undertone to his voice. “I can barely see you.”

She forced her feet to move, one step at a time, down five steps and into the small bit of light offered in the inner circle of the room. Her neck hurt when she tilted her head back to look into his eyes.

“Oh,” he breathed, and the sound carried on for a long time, crackling like a forest fire. “Well, now I do understand.”

She suddenly realized that she had no idea how to address him. Was ‘sir’ appropriate, or was there a term she did not know about, something more fitting? 

“I am afraid I do not,” she said, hesitating for a moment before settling on, “Supreme Leader.”

He smiled, a slow, dangerous smile. “Well, of course, no one’s explained the situation to you.” He seemed to lean forward, wherever he was. “You see, there’s a problem. Not caused by you, of course, but… let’s say it relates to you.”

She found herself inching forwards. The same low, warm vibration she had felt from Kylo Ren rolled off this man, flooding the room. The power that came just from his image was overwhelming. 

“The day you arrived — well, I’m sure you know this, but Master Rennoticed you, that day,” the Supreme Leader explained, “and, according to Commandant Hux, he’s been… intrigued since then.” He hesitated. “I sense it in the Force, too; a disturbance.”

Ayla frowned. It seemed beyond her that she could cause a disturbance in the Force; it seemed beyond her that people who _did_ have an effect on the Force knew of her existence. The greatest moment of her life had been shooting three soldiers with one shot. The Force was greater than that; it was good and it was evil, love and hatred, hope and anguish. It was the incoherent flow that was the source of legends. 

She pulled herself back. _Focus_ , she thought. _Stay intelligent_. “What can I do, Supreme Leader?”

He smiled. “Seduce him, if you can. Reel him in, and keep his allegiances with us. And if you can’t, well… I suppose there’s no issue. Not with you, at least.”

Ayla sensed that there was a joke there, but she also sensed she was not allowed to laugh at it.

She hesitated for a long moment before daring to say, “With all due respect, Supreme Leader, I am a warrior. Not a prostitute.”

His smile faded, replaced by a frown. “You are whatever the First Order needs you to be. Whatever _I_ need you to be.”

His voice was potent with energy. It washed over her in ripples, taking her breath away. “Of course,” she managed to gasp, not realizing until that moment that a light pressure had been applied to her windpipe.

“You are a warrior, yes,” he admitted, now that she had relented, “and if you succeed in this, if you keep Master Ren’s allegiance intact, you will be rewarded. Any position you want can be yours — even Commandant.”

_Even Commandant_ , she repeated, within her own mind. 

“Just as long as you succeed,” he whispered. 

She looked up at him, and she felt something dire had just transpired; something that carried the heaviness of legends. “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

“Good.” Once more, the word seemed to stretch out on his tongue. “You may leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I feel like the chapters might get longer from here on out, and possibly with more plot of the romance variation. And let's be real for a moment, that's why we're all here.


	4. Memories of Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the rating has changed because of reference to sex and violence.

_Seduce him_. 

It had seemed, if not easy, then at least doable when faced with the Supreme Leader. If you could look into his eyes and stay standing, then getting some man, Dark Knight or not, to want to fuck her seemed like such a small task. 

Of course, that wasn’t all. Desire was a part of it, Ayla assumed, but he had to _care_ for her enough to heed her word. How did you make a man that you never spoke with to _care_? 

Hux, thankfully, knew. He helped her in every way that he could, by placing her in meetings where Kylo Ren was likely to be. Ayla no longer let Saleem steer her to a seat; now, she led him to sit as close as she could to the chair Kylo was most likely to occupy. Soon, she was attending meetings that Saleem did not, all for the purpose of seeing and being seen by her target. 

Yet, for weeks, nothing happened. 

He listened intently to the things she said at meeting, and she swore that his gaze lingered when she had finished. Sometimes, she would even feel his eyes on her when she was silent. So there was respect of a professional kind, certainly, if not possibly a blossoming of desire. Yet, once the meeting was over, he’d rise to his feet and disappear out of the door before she had a chance to do anything. 

Today was the first time in weeks that she saw him outside of a conference room. 

She was alone, working on target practice in a simulator. As she was preparing a shot — something that took time, at a distance of the sort she was working with — she happened to look up, and there he was. His dark figure once more loomed above the training room, but this time, there could be no doubt who he was watching. 

He had to have know that she had seen him, so she made no pretense at hiding it. Her focus was lost now, anyway, so she shut down the simulator, still watching him, and went to the dressing room. 

Nothing more happened. 

She didn’t know what she had expected, but _something_ , certainly. To run into him in the hallway on her way out, perhaps. A part of her was afraid to undress completely, in case he took her long look as a sign that she wished to talk to him — something that was strange partially because a man of his rank would never follow someone of her rank’s wishes, especially unspoken, and partially because nakedness had never bothered her. 

She took longer showering than usual. Her measured list of motions was forgotten again and again as her mind wandered. There was something about him watching her that left her mind unhinged. It was a thrill that made the innermost part of her squirm. 

Something had changed, not between them but within her, by the time of that night’s meeting. How she understood even half of what was going on around her, she could not explain. She yearned for his eyes on her, for the intoxicating feeling of his _power_ focusing on her, and whenever he did, she felt her skin burn where his gaze landed. And, for every time he looked away, the burn grew more insistent, lingered for longer. 

She dreaded the moment the meeting would end, when he would rise and vanish and she would fail for another day. She dreaded for lying in her bed, knowing that once more, Hux would send a disappointing message to the Supreme Leader. 

But he did not rise. And neither did she.

She spoke absent-mindedly with Hux as he gathered his things and the room emptied, watching Ren from the corner of her eye. He, too, was speaking to someone, though his conversation seemed far more engaging. When Hux left, Ren was still speaking to the man — the only other person left except for Ayla and Ren. 

She pretended to gather her things, to get caught up reading something in her file, to drop a pen, until finally, the man left. 

She raised herself to sit straight and put down the escaped pencil on the table, avoiding looking at Ren. Suddenly, she was frozen; her mind was blank, wiped clean of every trace of the plans she had meticulously lain out for a scenario just like this. An unending second passed.

“So you suggest we attack here?”

She was surprised at the softness in her voice. She looked up to find him pointing at the holomap. 

“Yes, here,” she said, and as she reached out to point at a point just left of where he had suggested, her hand brushed against his retreating one. It felt like a shot of electricity and her breath hitched. His hand stilled in the air for a moment, and she knew, she _knew_ he’d felt it, too. 

But then, he was asking another question. Her focus was too scattered to come up with an answer so she just nodded. Even if she had a verbal answer, she doubted she had any breath to speak. 

He fell silent again. Her nod had clearly ended the conversation, exactly the opposite of what she wanted. 

“What planet were you born on?” he asked, then. Even through the mask he wore, she felt that his gaze had intensified. “I understand you were not born within the First Order.”

“I was snatched when I was five,” she explained, trying to puzzle together her thoughts. Her reaction to his touch surprised him. How could she react so strongly to a man she knew only through legends of his horrible deeds, whose face was hidden behind a mask? “It was a forested planet. I don’t remember its name. I doubt it even exists.”

He was quiet for a moment. “That must be…” He stopped himself. “That can’t be easy. Not knowing from where you came.”

“Sometimes I think it’s a relief,” she admitted. There was a memory pressing itself forward, of children’s laughter, of her feet running through dry grass and dusty dirt, of golden sunlight sparkling through green foliage. “Maybe forgetting makes it easier.”

It was the memory of a feeling, more than anything; of the smell of wet grass and deep forests; of sunlight on her face, of wind in her hair; of the color _green_. It was the tranquil happiness of carelessness, of the sort she had not known since and would likely never know again. 

“Makes what easier?” he asked. 

She wasn’t looking at him anymore, she realized, but she did not want to either. “I don’t know. Everything, I suppose.”

She felt something probing at her, a soft warmth tenderly pressing at her mind, and the pain of memory dulled. The memory was still there, but none of the sadness, none of the loss. 

“I wouldn’t want that.” 

He understood, though; that much she could tell, from the way his words were shaped in the air, from the way his body turned towards her. 

“Well, what I have forgotten is most likely not as great as what you remember,” she told him, daring a look into the eyes of his mask. 

He chuckled. The sound of it was strange, contorted as it was by the mechanics of his mask. “I don’t imagine it makes the relief of forgetting any less.”

Something about that sentence was like he’d taken his mask off; there was a revelation, a baring of himself, a tender _something_ , and she could not breathe for fear of scaring it away. She was not sure how to react. Luckily, he did not wait for her reaction. 

“I should go,” he said, his voice its usual self again. “I imagine you have things that need to be done as well.”

She stood abruptly. “Yes, of course.”

Gathering up her pen, she left the room, already feeling her cheeks heat up. This was it; their first real conversation. Her first step towards completing her mission. She had put together her rifle, she had found her target, she had measured the strength of the wind. Now, she just had to stay alert, stay _focused_ , and await theright moment. 

Except he’d _cared_. Except the memory of _green_ still lingered in her mind, except her skin still burned, except this was nothing like setting up her rifle, had none of the distance, none of the focus. 

Except, for a moment, both their masks had been off. 

She rushed to her bed, eager for the privacy it offered. A part of her wished this had never happened, that she was still failing. That had been simple. Now, she no longer knew if she was succeeding or failing or some third option she had never even considered. Even worse was the other part, the one insistent on running their conversation over and over again until she had dismantled ad analyzed every detail of it. That was the part of her that longed with every fiber in her mind and body for this to happen again, to speak to him and never stop, to listen to his voice and feel him listen to hers. 

Those dreams were wiped from her head the next day.

Hux called all the cadets to a conference room. A holomap showed a planet slowly rotating; from the west, a red dot appeared. Ayla traced its path across the screen, following the planet’s movements, until it vanished in the east. 

“We’ve tracked the missing piece of the map to finding Luke Skywalker on the planet of Jakku,” Hux explained. The holographic planet stopped rotating as the red dot came into center. “It is in the possession of someone named Lor San Tekka. So far, that is all we know, but it is important that we get it before the Resistance has an opportunity to whisk it away.

“I will stay here, in charge of overseeing the mission. Peri, Odris, I want you to be my eyes on the ground. Kylo Ren will be in charge of the mission there, but you will most likely only receive orders from me. The rest of you will stay here, to assist me or to be ready to dispatch in case something goes wrong.”

At the mention of Ren’s name, Ayla looked into Hux’s eyes. His lips became a thin line and he looked away. “Departure is in two hours,” he said. “That is all.”

Ayla was about to leave when he continued.

“Peri, you stay.”

She saw the confused glances of the other cadets, and she knew they to at least suspect _something_ was going on. 

“Sir?” she said, once the doors closed and they were alone.

He was silent for another moment, studying her. “This is not part of your other mission,” he said, clearly voicing out every word. “When you leave, you need to forget that mission. Don’t speak to him. This is too important. You can’t be a distraction to him.”

Hux did not need to explain who _he_ was. “Of course.” 

“Good. Now go. Get ready.”

Battles always arrived quicker than you’d think. The time from the moment the first briefing was given to the moment the first shot was fired never seemed more than a second long. This time, it felt even shorter. Everything flurried past her, until she was standing with her bag at her feet at the hangar, receiving one last pat on the shoulder from Hux before jogging in; until she was sitting by the window of the ship, staring down at the planet they would soon invade, wondering if Kylo Ren felt this human horror at what they would soon do; until she was lying flat on her stomach on the top of their craft and her ears rang with a hundred death-bringing shots and she tried to _focus_ , flipping the switches of her rifle and firing at the approaching enemies, trying to keep her friends and allies clear from afar. 

Most important was the tall black figure whose red cross cut a path of blood and death through the battlefield. He did not seem to need much protecting; it was almost — no, it was _definitely_ supernatural, the way he sensed every attack in time to block it. 

So, she let herself guide her rifle in other directions. She liked to think that she saved more lives than she took with the three well-placed shots she fired. 

Her attention was once more grabbed by Kylo Ren just as she was about to fire her fourth shot. It was like a wave of heat, pulling at her, dragging her back to him. And then she saw it; a sight that made her breath hitch in her throat. 

She raised herself above the sight of her rifle, needing to see this with her own eyes. A glowing line of blue hovered, unmoving, stopped by Ren’s outstretched. It took her a moment to accept it for what it was; a shot, fired straight for his heart and stopped mid-air by his mind alone. 

Setting aside her rifle, she inched closer to the edge of the craft to better see. A man was brought forwards, brought to his knees, and she thought for a moment that Ren would let go of the Force, let this man be killed by the shot he himself fired. 

But then he was pulled away, into the ship, and Ayla received a retreat call over her comm, and she was inside again, sitting by the window of the ship, staring down at the planet they had just left in ruins. 

In the end, battles ended as quickly as they started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so the canon starts here. I'm not sure how I'll incorporate it properly, but we'll see how it goes I guess? It was also pretty hard to find out where to end the chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading!


	5. An Insufferable Restlessness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to post this chapter! I got busy with New Year's :-)

Ayla felt slightly jealous of the soldiers on the ground when she watched them rise after takeoff to celebrate the end of the battle. She celebrated with them, of course, but she had none of the adrenaline they had. Of course, you were always, _always_ in danger as a soldier, but hers was less imminent, less tangible. 

After doing a round of congratulating the people she knew, she left the room and walked through the hall of the ship, looking for a private space to change into fresh clothes and look over her wounds. Although she had not been involved in the battle, sand had seeped under her clothing and a shot had grazed her arm. It was not anything she needed medical help for; mainly, she just felt the need for a moment’s privacy.

The bathroom she entered was small, but the brightness of the lights made it appear larger than it was. Placing her bag on the table beside the sink, she began carefully undressing and folding her clothes. 

The shot, as it turned out, had less than grazed her. The skin surrounding it had turned an angry red color from the heat, but the wound itself was barely a scratch. It looked like a cat had scratched her, no more than that. 

She kept on her underwear as she washed the sand off her skin with a wetted paper towel. It took a while, but it gave her the opportunity to sit down and let her mind wander for a moment. 

Once she was as done washing herself as she had to patience to be, she stood up and walked to her bag. She had just unzipped it when the doors slid open. 

Her heart jumped as she twirled around to tell whoever it was that the room was occupied. Those words, however, died in the throat when she saw who it was. 

She wasn’t sure how she knew it was him she was faced with; she had never seen his face before, after all. Perhaps it was the imposing stance he took, or perhaps how tall he was, towering over everyone else at base, or perhaps it was the way that his gaze on her felt the same whether he was wearing a black helmet or not. 

Nothing surprised her, not the lines of his face, not the length of his curls, not the softness of his eyes. Nothing surprised her except for how easily she recognized him just from the way he made her feel exactly the same as he always did.

“You’re not wearing your helmet,” she whispered. It was a strangled, tiny sound. 

His voice, when he spoke, was so different, yet exactly the same; softer, the way the brown of his eyes was softer than the blackness of his helmet, yet the same, the way the feeling of his gaze hadn’t changed. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, there’s nothing to apologize for,” she said, quickly, too quickly. 

There really wasn’t. There shouldn’t be. Nakedness wasn’t supposed to bother her because she wasn’t supposed to feel this, wasn’t supposed to be attracted to him, wasn’t _allowed_ to be, but she was— _oh_ , she was. Not just because of how soft his hair seemed, how warm his eyes were, how wonderful his lips looked, but because of the way he listened to her, the way he watched her, the power that rippled from him— _him_ , not the Force, not the mask, not the Order. _Him_. 

She wanted him. The fire had traveled from the points where his gaze touched into her bloodstream and down, and she wanted _him_. _Wanted_ him. 

He did not say anything, he just backed away, out, and closed the door. 

The endorphins and the adrenaline hit her like a punch, and she rushed to open her bag, to dress, to pack her things, imagining that perhaps he would be right outside the door, unable to walk away from her. She walked to the door, rested her right hand on it, ever-so-lightly, trying to sense his presence through it, and drew in a deep breath. Then, she opened it. 

Outside, the hallway was empty.

She looked up and down, right and left, several time. It surprised her how disappointed she was, in spite of how stupid her hope had been. _Of course_ , he was not outside waiting for her. Why would he be? Even if he did want her like she wanted him, it would not have made any sense. Still, it did not stop her steps from being heavier as she made her way back to the rest of the troops. 

After they touched down, she and Saleem went directly to debrief with Commandant Hux. They went through the mission from different perspectives, discussed the weaknesses and strengths in their tactic and debated what to do next. Ayla learned that they had lost the map, but that they had a hostage who would be interrogated. She swallowed down the discomfort she felt at the thought of it; something about interrogations, the aspect of being tied down, at the mercy of someone else, with no chance of escaping or fighting your way out, filled her with dread. 

“What does this mean for my mission?” Ayla asked. 

Hux glanced at Saleem. “That’s up to you to find out. I’d suggest you continue, but carefully.”

Saleem did not ask about it, not then and not after Hux had left. Having private missions was normal, and so was not being able to talk about them, especially before they were completed. 

They went to unpack before going to eat. There, they shared stories with their fellow cadets and answered their questions. They also got information on what had happened back at base while they were gone. Ayla’s focus was shattered, though; her mind kept traveling back to the bathroom on the ship. An insufferable restlessness had settled over her; she could not sit still anymore than she could keep her mind still. She did not even want to. She relished in moving her eyes down to her food, letting them slip closed and seeing before her the face of Kylo Ren.

_Will I ever see him without a mask again?_ she wondered. She imagined if her mission was succesful, she’d have to — but then, you never knew. 

“I think I’ll go to the gym,” she said, standing suddenly.

Ria Tachi, one of the other cadets, started in shock, and Ayla realized she had been speaking until Ayla interrupted her. Saleem raised his brows as he looked up at her.

“You’re not tired?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

She shook her head. “Yes, but I can’t sit still. I think I need to… blow off some steam.”

She had not made it far from the cafeteria when she realized that she did not really want to go to the gym. Her body was exhausted. But when she thought about it, there really wasn’t anywhere she wanted to go. She just wanted to walk, to allow herself to think. 

So she did; she wandered the halls, ignoring the fact that her feet seemed to trace the paths where she was most likely to run into Kylo. It was only a matter of time, really.

It was also very lucky. As she walked, a door opened and a Captain left it. Just before the door slid closed, Ayla saw Kylo sitting by the table, alone. Her heart leapt at the sight of him, at the slight tremor in the air that affected her skin, and her feet moved her towards the door before she could properly think about it.

Her mind caught track of her body by the time she was in front of the door. How would she explain this, she wondered, turning up like this, at random? What possible reason could she have to simply enter the room. 

_Stay clever_ , she reminded herself. _Stay focused. Don’t let yourself get distracted._

With a deep breath, she knocked on the door. 

When it opened, Kylo was no longer sitting like he had before, but he was still standing on the other side of the table, in the far corner of the room. She wondered if he’d used the Force to open the door.

“Cadet Peri,” he said, and she thought she traced surprise in his voice. _Understandably_. “What are you doing here?”

Her mouth fell open, and she quickly closed it again, gathering her thoughts. “I wanted to… ask about something.”

“Right.” His hand went to the fastening of his helmet. “Do you mind? There’s no point in keeping it on, now that you’ve seen my face.”

“Not at all.” Her throat was dry.

He pulled it off his head and ran a hand through his hair, away from his face, before setting aside the helmet. 

“Do you not like wearing it?” She only barely managed to keep her voice from trembling.

“I am used to it,” he said, his voice perfectly even. Then, he said, “It gets scratchy from time to time though.”

She could do nothing but stare at him. She wondered if perhaps ‘scratchy’ felt different for him than it did for her; she simply could not imagine him experiencing such a base, _human_ feeling. “Right,” she said, finally.

He drew half a step closer to her, but it felt like he had crossed a galaxy, and that he was right there, before her, pressed against her— she bit her lip, and cursed herself for doing that. _Stay focused_.

But he had seen it, that terrible, enormous slip from the stoic anonymity that she was trained in, and his eyes were on her lips, his dark eyes…

“I wanted to ask about the prisoner,” she began to explain.

He nodded, looking back into her eyes.

“I wanted to…” But she had completely forgotten it, and no matter how hard she tried to gather her strings of thoughts, they tumbled from her hands. Her breathing was so heavy, she did not doubt he could hear it across the room. 

A cruel, quiet second passed. 

And then he was walking towards her, and she braced herself for his anger. But then his hands cradled her face, and his thumb brushing her cheekbone was nothing like an angry fist. His eyes searched hers for a brief moment before falling closed. His open lips pressed against hers — he felt his breath in her mouth, heavy with desire already — and slowly closed around her bottom one. 

She drew back, only to reach up and hold on to his neck as she moved her lips against his again, harder this time, and again. 

When he drew back, it was a sudden movement, almost violent. He took several steps away from her, reaching for his helmet again. Ayla’s mind remained blurry as she watched him put it on, filled with a light haze that contrasted so with the darkness of him.

He crossed the distance between them with a few stern steps. He seemed taller now than he had before.

“You will not tell anyone about this,” he commanded.

“Of course not,” she agreed, without thinking. 

He continued past her, careful not to touch her as he did so. Still, she felt him, and she felt him drag a piece of her out of her and with him. She whipped around to look at him.

“Wait,” she pleaded, stumbling a step in his direction. 

He stopped, one hand outstretched, about to open the door, and looked back at her.

“Please don’t be angry with me.” Her voice was trembling with some emotion that she did not know yet.

“I am not angry with you,” he said. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

With that, he left her, and she stood, alone and quivering as a wave of emotion rose from the back of her mind. Tears prickled in her eyes. Even though she, with her rationally intelligent and focused mind, knew that this meant she had succeeded already, that he certainly felt _something_ strong enough to break the rules of physical intimacy, she still abandoned, torn apart and raw from his coldness. 

_Don’t be silly_ , she told herself. In his absence, she managed to gather her thoughts as well as her emotions and carefully push them back to the place from where they came. _Don’t be silly. Stay clever. Stay focused._


	6. Vulnerability

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is terrible, but i just really wanted to upload! and, hey, next chapter we'll raise the rating again!

**** His absence remained, not in body but in mind. They still saw each other, _had_ to, because suddenly the prisoner had escaped and a new plans had to be made, new missions launched. But they were never alone, and she never felt his gaze wandering to her.

She still felt the ripples of power that he emanated, from time to time, but they were a variation of their usual self. There was a whisper of anger to them, a hush of confusion glazing over. This was not the time to press on. This was not a normal battle. Vulnerability did not mean that the defences were going down, but that they were going up. 

In any case, she did not have the time. She had to catch up with her training between long strategic meetings, and she continued to get hot flashes and sudden episodes of blindness at inopportune moments. At the same time, she felt herself withdrawing; with every day that nothing happened between them, her control of herself grew more intact. Her sleep got heavier, easier to fall into, until she found herself not wanting to wake at all.

“Peri!” 

She jumped at the sound of Hux’s voice, dropping her guard. The boxing bag swung to her now unprotected shoulder. With a hiss of pain, she stepped out of its way and towards Hux.

“What are you doing?” he asked, the special sort of anger felt by disappointed coaches apparent in his voice.

She squared her shoulders, met his eyes, despite her exhaustion. Black spots had started to dance in the corner of her eyes since before she even began this exercise. “What do you mean, Commandant?”

“Well, for one it looked like the bag was beating you,” he pointed out.

She frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t sleep well,” she lied.

He stared her down. “You look weak.” When she could not think of a proper response, he continued, “You looked like you were going to be sick with every move you made. Your entire body was tense, like you were afraid to let go. It’s affecting your training.”

She clenched her jaw to keep from revealing emotion. “What do you want me to do?”

He hesitated. “Go get something to eat, then rest. You look pale.”

The cafeteria was always open, but this time of day, it was almost empty. Ayla sat at an empty table, as far away from disturbances as she could get. She felt a headache coming on, and the tendons in the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades seemed to coil together tightly. As she rubbed her neck, trying to loosen up, a small group of Troopers entered. Two of them were speaking excitedly to the others, who did nothing but nod and mutter breathless replies. 

“…I don’t know what happened, but— don’t go down hallway 11-7-B right now, is all I’m saying.”

The other Trooper continued, “It’s one of those fits he gets, you know? Sounded like the control panel took a pounding…”

One of the otherwise Troopers entered the discussion. “Hall 11-7-B? That’s where they…”

They fell out of Ayla’s hearing range, but she could guess that rest. _11-7-B_ , she thought. _That’s where they keep the prisoners_.

Without thinking — not about the risks or the consequences or anything much at all — she pushed away the food and left the table, heading straight for 11-7-B. It was a while away, but she must’ve walked quicker than she realized, because before she knew it, she was there.

The hallway was eerily empty. Usually, you would meet at least a couple of Trooper, either on guard or on their way somewhere else. But not now.

She proceeded cautiously, but did not bother to glance through the doors she passed; she felt it, now. It was as thought the hallway was flooded with power, _his_ power, and all she had to do was walk against the stream.

It grew stronger and stronger, stronger than she had ever felt it, until the hairs on her skin were rising to meet it. She braced herself against the wall as she turned around a corner and into the room from where it originated. 

“Master Ren?” she asked.

He had his back to her, his towering figure bent over a broken control panel — more than broken, it was a damping mess of black metal. 

“Kylo?” she said again, moving further inside. “What happened?”

He shook his head, slowly, guiltily. “She escaped.”

“Escaped?”

“The hallway is empty?”

Ayla walked back, looked out to see. “I don’t think anyone’s there, no.”

“Close the door,” he said.

She pressed the button to close it, then to lock it, never looking away from him. As she watched, he pulled off his mask.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asked.

“There’s nothing I want less,” he breathed, turning around to face her. Once more, she was struck by the softness of his eyes, the lines of his face. “I don’t understand why. I am weak, _weak_ like them.” His eyebrows drew together in pain. “I’m suddenly— suddenly, I want things I’ve never thought of before.”

Her feet moved towards him. “What sorts of things?”

He blinked, almost as though he we embarrassed. “The taste of sweet rum, the ocean breeze at midnight… and you.”

She felt the hairs on her skin rise again, but this time for an entirely different reason. “Me?”

He stumbled towards her until he was right _there_ , and his hands were caressing her face, pushing back her hair, tilting her head up so that he could look in her eyes. “You are so incredibly beautiful,” he whispered, “and so strong, and yet so… so…” She let out a gasp as one of his hands travelled down her back and his head dipped to the curve of her shoulder.“Some nights,” he whispered over the skin of her neck, “the thought of you is what keeps me awake; other nights, it’s the only thing that can get me to fall asleep.”

She felt tears in her eyes, of desire, of happiness. Her fingers were burning for his touch and her breathing was so heavy, it must’ve been audible across the universe. 

And then his hands were cradling her neck, thumbs massaging her jawline, and his lips crashed onto hers. She opened her lips, allowed his tongue to push inside and meet hers, allowed him to push her until her back hit the wall and wrap her legs around him. 

He captured her bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled away, holding on until she let out a whine of pleasure. 

“Is this…” he began, but she did not let him finish. 

“…all that I want?” she finished for him, then nodded. “Yes, it is.”

He smiled — and not one of those small, barely noticeable smirks that Ayla had gotten used to. This smile was like the sun; shining, bursting, bright, and impossible not to notice. Feeling her heart returning the sentiment, she pulled him down for another kiss.


End file.
